Legend of Zelda: Heroes of the Gods
by Hedgehog of Time
Summary: This is it, the end of all things. The apocalypse as foretold in the ancient texts is upon Hyrule, and an evil as old as time itself has risen from the shadows. The Hero of Time must face his destiny. But this time, his strength alone may not be enough. With the aid of a young female mercenary, a monster with a man's soul, and an inept Sheikah, he may yet succeed. (T but barely)
1. Chapter 1

Prologue: Promises

"Promise me Frodo." said Solomon. He held his friends shoulders, a pleading look in his eyes. In Frodo's hands was perhaps the most important item in all of Hyrule, and it was dozing like a little angel, his lips in a little smile like it was dreaming of something sweet, like mountains of candy or a warm summer day.

"Solomon, I do not understand why you cannot tak-" began Frodo, but Solomon shook his friend hard, an almost manic look in his eyes.

"Goddesses dammit Frodo! Didn't you hear a single word I said! Don't you know what he is! What he is born to be! If word spread of his identity half of Hyrule would want him dead and the other half would raise him to be pawn! He needs to be protected from himself and the world!" There were tears in Solomon's eyes now. The once proud warrior looked pathetic. His piercing blue eyes had bags under them, and his eyes themselves looked only half sane. His tawny gold hair was ruffled and tasseled like it had been in a gale and his black traveling cloak was wrinkled,mud spattered and ripped by the wind. On the whole, he was a mess, perhaps a dangerous one. It occurred to Frodo that perhaps his childhood friend had gone mad.

The child began to cry in distress for Solomon's tirade had awoken it from it's pleasant dream to a waking nightmare. Frodo took a moment to console the sobbing baby. Once the infant's tears had gone he looked up at his oldest friend. "I heard vague references to some obscure prophecy that I don't think you really understand. I heard a madman's ramblings about a coming catastrophe. But these things are all I heard. Has my opinion of you been to high all these years? Are you making up excuses simply to evade being a father?!" Frodo demanded with rising anger.

Solomon's eyes grew sad as he released his hold on his friend's shoulders. "You know that this is not true. What are these lies?" Frodo longed to lash out at the man in front of him, longed to strike at him, but Frodo saw the truth in his friends eyes and knew he could not. Solomon sighed and continued. "Believe me Frodo, every part of my body and soul longs to take the child with me and raise him. I want to frolic with him when the warm winds of summer blow and the fields grow green and the trees hang heavy with fruit. I want to sit with him by the fire a cup of cocoa in hand while the winter storms rage outside. I want to comfort him when he has nightmares and laugh with him at his silly dreams. I want to watch my baby boy grow into a man!"

"Then why don't you!" cried Frodo angrily. "Why do you run from him and speak insanity about the end of the world and other such nonsense!" Frodo couldn't believe that this was what his oldest friend had been reduced to.

Solomon looked ready to start sobbing in time to his son's own cries. "Because the Goddesses have laid cruel fate upon this boy, and have saddled him with a destiny of unspeakable horror. This child is blessed with great power, but this power will curse him. It will make him an outcast, but he will never give in, for they have imbued him with unbreakable will and spirit, which will only make it more torturous for him for he will never stop trying to fit in, yet he will never be accepted." Solomon seemed to quiver in terror at the mere thought of the child's fate. "If I am around then those who seek to do him harm will find him faster than a cat at a dog convention." he took his friends shoulders, gently this time, and looked Frodo in the eye. "I ask you once more my dearest friend, will you protect him?"

Frodo closed his silver eyes, unable to bear contact with the blue ones opposite him. "I will. But not for your sake, and not because of some foolish prophecy." Frodo reopened his eyes, and anger blazed within them. "I will take him from you because I will not let you fill this child's head with your madness."

"Promise me." begged the desperate father.

"I promise." replied Frodo.

Relief seemed to flow through Solomon like a storm water coursing through a dry riverbed. His muscles visibly relaxed and a sigh emerged from his chest. He released his grip on Frodo's shoulder's and stepped back. "I can never thank you enough for this Frodo." the relived man took off his rucksack and took out two items. One was a hand-and-a-half sword, forged from simple steel and an even simpler hilt. Carved into the pommel was the coat of arms of the Stormblade family, a silver dragon lying in a circle, and a golden heart at it's center. On the handle itself were inscribed the words, _Rise and rise again, for the strongest of us may be the smallest of us. _The other was a wooden shield, again with the dragon and heart upon it. The rim of the shield was bordered with olive leaves in a sort of wreath. Solomon placed them on the table of the tiny kitchen that they stood in.

"He is to be trained as a warrior, both in body and spirit. Teach him honor and valor and the value of a human life. On his eighteenth birthday, he is to be given both of these items. After that, let his soul guide him to his next move." Solomon said these words in a calm, detached voice, devoid of emotion. It was such a quick and almost manic transformation that terrified Frodo. Once again he questioned his friends sanity. Now Solomon turned from his friend completely and drew his cloak around him tighter. "I will lead them away from you and the boy, but heed my words Frodo. Protect him. The world needs him." Solomon began to move towards the door, he was stooped in a posture of a man who was much older than he himself was. It was as though the knowledge of his son's future weighed upon him like an anvil.

"Who is "they" Solomon? Answer me that." Frodo said as his friend approached the door.

Solomon paused and said, "Those who you should pray that you never meet." The words were spoken with quiet warning, like a prophet warning a king of war on the horizon. Frodo released a tiny shudder.

"And what am I to name this little mushball?" Asked Frodo. It was his father's right, and responsibility, to give the fruit of his loins a name.

Once more did Solomon pause as he began to open the door to the storm outside. The thunder boomed in the distance like the war drums of some approaching army. "His name is Link. Link Stormblade." Now there was no stopping Solomon. He flung the door open, stepped into the gale, and slammed the door behind him. Despite himself and despite his anger at him, Frodo could not help but feel tears well up in his eyes.

Frodo never saw his friend again.

* * *

Chapter 1: Whispers in the Dark

(Seventeen years and eleven months later)

Link stared out the window of his room, his gaze so full of rage and frustration it could melt stones with it's intensity. _One more season._ Those had been his adopted fathers very words. A promise that once this season was over he could take his warrior skill and his vaulting ambition out of this backwater hick farm and seek his fortune. That he could take Epona and see the world; something he knew that he was born to do. Link had held up his end of the bargain like a champ. He hauled more hay, had milked the goats faster, and plowed the field faster and harder than he ever had before in his life. Because of him, Frodo had taken in double the profit he usually made in total off of the goats alone.

Oh yes Link had held up his end of the bargain honestly and nobly. But when Link had approached him earlier today, both knowing full well that the beginning of winter and the storms that would snow him in were approaching, Link had told him the facts. He had told him that he had held up his end of the bargain and was making plans to leave this old farm and find his place in the sun. And what did the old hick say then? "Well Link, you've done such a good job this year, I was hoping you could stay until your eighteenth birthday at least." The fury that Link had felt at that moment had been beyond any rage he had felt before. Link had lost his composure and had gone on the biggest rant of his life. He colorfully described Frodo's parents, his lineage, his past, his present, his future, and his looks, never once repeating himself. Looking back, Link was shocked at himself. Never before had he exploded like that. True he had a firestorm temper at lot of the time, but never had he been so furious before. He just couldn't take such hypocrisy. Hypocrisy inflamed his temper like nothing else, especially when it came from family.

What you consider family, he reminded himself. Link knew bloody well that he had no family, everyone around him constantly reminded him that he had no family. In a big city like Castletown there were no such things as bastard children, only varying degrees of legitimacy. But out here, in this backwards sorry excuse for a hick town Ordon, if you had no family, you were a pariah, something ugly. That had started when Link was seven, the names. Names like "bastard" and "unwanted" had flown at him like balls of mud that stuck to him and pulled him downwards into a dark abyss. But then his powers came to light, and he discovered a new type of hell.

He shivered as he remembered that cursed day so long ago.

* * *

(_Ten years earlier)_

_Link was pushed into the mud. Humiliation filled his face as the others laughed at him. He slowly rose to his feet, hot tears of shame spilling into his eyes as he glared with absolute hate at Bonzo, his worst tormentor._

_Link had gone into town alone that day, for the first time actually, to fetch some milk for the annual Feast of Fortunata that was to take place that week. He had been stupid enough to take the shortcut across the wheat fields though, and had run right into Bonzo and his gang._

_Bonzo was only one year older than Link but was already a giant, standing five feet tall and with broad shoulders and the muscle to back them up. He had an ugly, scarred face, a squashed nose, and tiny piggish eyes. "What's wrong kiddie, gonna cry?" sneered Bonzo. Twitch and Stretch, Bonzo's two most disgusting lackeys, both snickered at Link's torment. "Come on, go running home to mommy, oh wait, you don't have a mommy!" With those cruel words Bonzo threw back his head and laughed._

_This was not the first time that Link had been ridiculed like this, in fact it was not even the worst of it. But something snapped in Link in that moment, some long held back black feeling that was closely akin to hate. Except this was darker, stronger._

_With a savage war cry the scrawny ten year old rushed Bonzo hitting him with a haymaker as hard as he could._

_Now at seven years old, Link was still a scrawny kid, all skind and bone and had yet to hit his growth spurt. So needless to say when his punch threw Bonzo ten feet backward he was a little bit surprised. Link's mouth fell open like a hooked trout and looked down at his fist. It was the same as ever, but somehow he had managed to send the bully flying._

_Twitch and Stretch stared at him. "Witch." whimpered Twitch. Both boys began to chant it louder and louder. Link paniced, turned around, and ran for his life._

* * *

After that day he had become a pariah, a thing to be looked down upon. When he was young he had vainly hope that if he paid no mind to his unwanted gifts, that if he let them be, they would go away and leave him in peace. He had figured that they were like the flu, something that would run it's course and leave eventually. Oh how wrong he had been. His already whirling tornado of a brain began swirling faster at the memory of it. At first, his powers seemed like a blessing. Power of great strength, power of abnormal speed and agility, power of wind, fire, and crystal. But then word had leaked out like a leak in a dam into the village. Now shouts of bastard were replaced by cries of "witch" and "demon". All of these things had made Link eager to leave, let him outrun his past and let the light of the world beyond the green boughs of Faron Woods baptize him and make him a new person. Let the fabled water of Lake Hylia wash away his bitterness and his resentment.

But now all hope of ever leaving this forsaken town was slowly ebbing away. And why? Because his idiotic foster father wanted him to be just like him! Link's rage erupted again and he threw his chair against a wall shattering it. Goddesses he had never been so angry in all his life! He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He had to admit that the life of a farm-boy had been good to his body. He was made almost entirely of lean muscle beneath lightly tanned skin, all his baby fat had disappeared within three years of his fourth birthday. His light blonde hair had been burned a tawny gold by the heat of the sun. His blue eyes were shaped like a wolf's eyes, predatory and deadly. He shook his head violently, Gods he had to get out of here!

* * *

That night Link tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep for his mind was filled to bursting with the injustices of the past, present, and future. Link could feel the air of this village crushing him, stifling him, crushing his soul. He needed to get out or he would die, he knew it. Ever since he was little, he knew he would never survive if he had to stay here. This was a small village filled with little people with even smaller dreams. All they wanted to do was get married, have kids, and live here forever. Well that was all fine and dandy for them, but Link wanted more. He wanted to get the hell out of there and see the world that he had dreamed of since he was in diapers. He wanted to climb the fabled Death Mountain and wrestle with Gorons. He wanted to swim the holy waters of lake Hylia and talk with the Zoras. There was so much in the world to do, to experience, but he was stuck in this tiny little excuse of a town that made Kakariko village look like a bustling metropolis.

Link sat up in bed. He needed air, that's what he needed, he needed to get out of this place. Link made his way downstairs, taking careful precautions to skip the third step from the bottom, the one that always squeaked. He stepped outside into the warm, wet night air. It was the end of summer, and the nip of autumn was beginning to creep into the air nonetheless, one was perfectly comfortable in simple leggings. Link walked across the grass and to the family stable where the horses were held. All of the family's horses were fine beasts with great power and endurance, but none compared to his own horse, Epona. Epona was a mystery to everyone in the village. She was a magnificent red mare who, at first glance, appeared to be nothing more than a plow-horse. I reality, she was the fastest and strongest of all the horses in Ordon, and pretty much Link's only friend.

"Hey, girl," said Link affectionately as he got to his mare's stable. The horse instantly recognized him and walked over to the door, and hung her head over. Link stroked the hair between Epona's eyes. Without really meaning to, he began to unload all his anger and resentment into words which he poured out of his mouth. While this tide of venom poured from his mouth, Epona listened with quiet patience. That's what Link loved about animals over people, no matter what crap you dished out around them, they listened with quiet patience and kindness, never judging you and never thinking you were crazy.

When Link was done, he smiled at his horse. "Thanks for putting up with my grumbling girl. Here's a reward for not biting me in frustration." He gave her head one last pat and produced a sugar cube from his pocket. The sight of the cube made her ears prick up, for sugar cubes were her favorite treat. Link chuckled and held it out for her, laughing as she gobbled it up greedily. "You greedy thing. I don't have any more." he said with a laugh in response to Epona's puppy dog eyes. She snorted in annoyance and swung her head back into her stall. Link shook his head and turned back to the house. Getting all his rage off his chest made him feel, lighter. He saw now how cruel he'd been to his foster father and resolved to apologize to him in the morning.

Suddenly, something appeared odd about the house. Link squinted, but couldn't quite understand what it was. Then he saw it, a lamp was burning in Frodo's room. This was bizarre, for Frodo had a strict policy on going to sleep on the farm. Once nine o'clock hits, you get in bed or you'll be useless the next day. Curious now, Link decided to investigate.

Link slowly made his way up the stairs to Frodo's room, which was the room across from his own. Once again he was careful to avoid the treacherous third step which would give away his position in a heart-beat. Once at the door, he put his ear to it and began to listen to his foster father's conversation.

"Frodo, you know you can't keep him here forever. His eighteenth birthday is almost here, and the time for him to receive his inheritance as well." said an unfamiliar voice that sounded vaguely male. Link furrowed his brow in confusion. His inheritance? His father had actually left him something?

"I know," said Frodo unhappily. "We had an argument today about that very thing. But he's not ready for the world out there! And I'm still not convinced on this whole prophecy business. For all we know-"

"The time of the prophecy is upon us you moon-addled idiot!" snapped the voice again. "The portents have confirmed it! The Beast will be ascendent soon, we _**need**_ him, now more than ever!" The stranger's voice was furious.

"What do you want me to do! Throw him out in the cold!?" replied Frodo angrily. "Let him face the world on his own and get himself killed?!" he demanded

"Of course not! I want you to give him the inheritance he is to be given and send him to Castletown! Tomorrow at the latest." said the mystery voice in a no-compromise way. "After that we will take over.

There was a creak of protest from the planks of the house as Frodo stood from wherever he was sitting. "There is no way I'm doing that! You'll have to wring my neck first!" Boomed Frodo. This sudden outburst frightened Link, for though his foster father was a giant of a man, he was also a very soft-spoken one. Link took a step back in surprise, and the floor creaked under his weight. Both voices fell silent.

"Someone is listening." growled the stranger. In a flash Link was in his room and dove under the covers. With a palpitating heart-beat, he listened as Frodo's door opened, and the creak of floor-boards as someone walked across the hall. Finally, he heard Frodo nervously speak.

"Is anyone there? Are we being watched?" there was a clear tremor in his foster father's words.

After a moment, the stranger said, "No, it must have been a trick of our minds." Link released a quiet breath in relief. It was quiet, yet audible at the same time. There was a splitting _**CRACK!**_ And his door flew off it's hinges in two pieces.

"REVEAL YOURSELF WORM! COME OUT AND FACE DEATH LIKE A MAN!" Bellowed the voice of the stranger.

Link sat bolt-upright in terror as he stared at who had broken down the door. The figure wore wrappings that covered most of his body including his mouth. He wore dark-blue shin-pads and bracers as well as a leather chest-plate with an-eye like symbol in blood-red with a dark-blue cowl. His eyes were crimson and his skin, from what Link could see, was pale as a full-moon. Black hair peeked out from beneath his cowl. In either hand he held a long, bloodthirsty dagger.

"Who the hell are you and why did yo freaking destroy my door!?" cried Link, his voice filled with as much indignation as sheer terror.

Frodo walked up and tapped the stranger on the shoulder. The man turned quickly as if expecting a foe, but relaxed a bit when he saw Frodo. "Tobias, this is Link, the boy we were talking about." said Frodo in a resigned tone. At this little piece of information, Tobias's eyes bugged out of their sockets, did a double take on Link and got out of his battle crouch.

"Heh, heh, sorry Link," said Tobias in a nervous chuckle. Still trying to recover his pride, Tobias sheathed both daggers and turned to Link. "So, was that you I heard sneaking around?"

"Yeah," growled Link standing up and glowering at them both. "What was all that I heard about a prophecy? And my inheritance? You've been keeping something from me?!" said Link, the anger in his voice rising. He was closer to the truth now than ever before in his life, and he intended to get some answers.

"Look Link, It's late. You're in no emotional state to deal with this now. You should get some rest and-" began his foster father.

"No!" snarled Link approaching the both of them. "I've been waiting for answers for over eighteen years. I-"

"Then you can wait one more night." said his foster father forcefully. Link curled his hands into fists, his previous fury returning with a vengeance.

Tobias could see things were taking a turn for the worst and said. "You're right Frodo. Link get some sleep, and he will tell you everything tomorrow." With that, Tobias grabbed something from his pouch and hurled it to the ground. Whatever it was, it exploded into smoke and a lot at that. Link threw up his hands in protection, and Frodo began to cough. When the smoke cleared, Tobias was gone.

"Damn Sheikah and their damn dramatic exits." said Frodo in disgust as he coughed into his fist.

"That was a Sheikah!? A real live Sheikah?!" cried Link. Since he was small he had heard tales of the legendary warrior race of shadows. Meeting a real one was like meeting a dragon or a unicorn.

"Yes, and I will explain him, your inheritance and what I know of this so called prophecy tomorrow. Now get the hell to bed before I give you a boot up your ass!" the words were so firmly spoken that Link, albeit grudgingly, did as he said.

* * *

He sat in the dungeon, his thick muscled wrists wrapped in chains of cold iron and holy silver. His thick brown fur filthy and matted my mud and unmentionable substances of preferably unknown origin. His great wolf head hung to his chest in sleep, but his ears remained pricked up looking for sound. The bones of mice and rats littered the floor of his lightless cell, remnants of his only meals in the rank pit of despair that was his home, and a set of old tarnished plate armor lay in one corner of the cell.

With a horrible scathing screech, the stone door opened and light fell upon a creature that had not seen such a thing for twenty years. The beast hissed and threw up it's hands in a vain attempt to protect itself from the torchlight. There were two flashes of blue energy and it's chains dissolved into dust. The wolf beast stood on it's back legs and looked at it's savior. While the massive monster towered over almost all other creatures, this man looked him right in the eyes. His skin was a dark mahogany color and his hair was a deep, fiery red and was surrounded by an obsidian black crown with a single ruby set in the front. His black armor seemed to absorb the light and emotion from the world around him, and was engraved with glowing red symbols that seemed to move of their own accord. A long scarlet cape that hung around his shoulders and reached down to the floor.

The beast feared nothing, until it met this man. This creature that stood before him terrified him, for it smelled nothing. Do not misunderstand, he could smell physical things on him, like the musk of wild boar, the dry desert, and the unmistakeable scent of human blood. This beast however had the power to smell other things such as emotions and thoughts. In his captors he had smelled hate, disgust, anger, and greed. Not this man. He was a void of emotion and feeling. With a whine that a dog may produce when he fears his master's boot the monster shied away from this man.

The gray-skinned man shook his head sadly, false sympathy in his cold crimson eyes. "You poor beast, locked up like an animal and forced to live in your own feces and feed on rats; with nothing to drink but whatever drips from the ceiling." he walked forward. "But you aren't just an animal are you?"

The beast looked at the man, interest sparking in it's amber eyes. Never before had another creature spoken to it like a man instead of a beast. His words were kind and gentle, a welcome yet unfamiliar change in the world that was made of pain and death. "Yes, you are smart, you can talk, and you are hungry." The beast cocked his head to one side indicating his interest. "Yes, serve me, and I can promise you many good things, starting with a gourmet dinner right now." With those words he stepped to the side and gestured to the doorway. The beast stepped forward into the torchlit room beyond his tiny cell, and saw what the man meant. His three female guards, all dead. Their hateful eyes extinguished forever and their cruel fingers forever stilled. Their brown, tender flesh and the red blood that pooled on the floor made saliva drip from his jaws.

"Go ahead." smiled the man behind him. "Help yourself." with a ferocious roar the monster descended upon the dead bodies sinking into a blood-hunger that could only be sated with the flesh of his enemies. Blood spattered the walls and gore spilled onto the floor as the beast consumed the three dead Gerudo women. Bones snapped as he crushed them foe their marrow and soon his fur was matted with the blood. All through this gory scene, the man watched from the door, a strange, fascinated smile on his face.

When his appetite was sated, the demon sat on his haunches and loosed a contented burp and patted his distended stomach in satisfaction. All that remained of the guards were their spears, a few scraps of cloth and bone, and the blood that stained the floor, and dripped from the walls, and matted the beast's fur. The beast heard slow, impressed clapping from the cell door and saw the man applauding his work. In it's blood lust he had barely noticed his rescuer.

"Well done my friend. I could use someone like you in my service you know. All the pain and suffering you could cause." he sighed deep in thought. "Delicious." He shook his head and returned to reality. "What saw you beast, will you join me? Will you strike back at the world that has done this to you?"

The beast stood and spoke in a voice that was deep as the sea and as as scratched like two stones striking one another. "I am your weapon."

The man nodded, pleased. "Excellent, but methinks that you will need this." he waved his hand and a ring of sickly green fire appeared on the floor. Slowly, a double-bladed two-handed war ax carved from the bone of a giant emerged from the floor. The ax was not white, it merely lacked any color at all.

"With this ax," spoke the man, "I name you. I name you Belak: Bane of Life." he smiled a final smile. "servant of Ganondorf: King of Evil."

The beast grabbed the weapon in it's hands and weighed it in his hands. He gave a toothy smile as he realized it was perfect for him. He raised it to the heavens and let loose a terrible roar of primal hate and carnal fury. Belak was like a dog that had constantly been beaten by it's master, and now it had the chance to bite back.

And he intended to bite back.


	2. Chapter 2

Friends, writers, readers and assorted wierdos. I reggret to inform you that, due to personal issues of grave importance, I will not be able to wirte for some time. I know that this is a kick in the teeth for some of you, but I will return as soon as I can.

I love you all.

-Hedgehog of Time


End file.
